


Husband and Wife

by tiredhealer



Category: Favour of the Scribes
Genre: F/M, cedwyn thinks about life and death but mainly vercs boobies, vcr sneak off to have cliffside sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:01:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29362908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiredhealer/pseuds/tiredhealer
Summary: Vercinjetorix and Cedwyn spend some time alone after telling the party about their engagement.
Relationships: VCR - Relationship, Vercinjetorix/Cedwyn
Kudos: 2





	Husband and Wife

The stars are bright in Bracehill. Up north, they’re as far away from the smoke of Marashken as can be, as close to what the sky once would have been before. It should be like this in the south too, but of course Arishkanae is not. Arishkanae is darkness, forever and ever.

When Ilya dies, will the sky above Arishkanae open up? Will there be stars like there are here, bright spots against the dark, spreading across the blackness like small guiding lights?

Cedwyn doesn’t think he’ll live to see it, so he supposes there’s no point in wondering.

But for tonight he doesn’t want to think about Ilya, or fighting her, or what might happen when they do. He doesn’t want to think about death. He wants to think about life.

The life he’s going to have with Vercinjetorix, whether it lasts for a hundred years or only a hundred hours. Every second will be worth it because he’ll be at her side. At her side as her _husband._

Inside Pluto’s cottage the party winds down for the night: Nalani asleep on Pluto’s chest, Pluto snoring beneath them in his armchair, Roddrik still tensed even in rest but dozing, Noa upstairs in the bedroom. Vercinjetorix reaches for Cedwyn’s hand and they slip out into the night together.

The garden behind the cottage is walled off from the far-away neighbours, but there’s a dip where it opens up to a path down to the sea. Pluto’s boat was likely here before. Or – what was it he’d said – his father’s boat, wasn’t it? Dismantled now for parts either way.

Cedwyn wonders what it was like, to have a piece of your parents you could touch. A solid, tangible memory, not something made of smoke that sank between your fingers when you reached too hard for it.

Melancholy again. He shakes his head as he sits down by Vercinjetorix in the small sand-filled dip at the end of the garden. Her legs are pale beneath the peach of her skirt as she stretches them out before her. She tips her head back and closes her eyes and Cedwyn watches the way the starlight shines off her cheekbones, the way it glistens against her throat.

Gods, but she is the most beautiful woman in the world. He leans in, presses a kiss against her temple and follows the arch of her jaw down and down until he’s at the point where it smooths into her neck.

She sighs softly, one of her small hands rising to rub along his arm. Her skin is cold against his – but it has never been a bad cold, not even when he had warmth in his veins. The cold of Vercinjetorix has always been like the first breeze of spring, the first thaw on a frozen morning. A cold that brings light, bring promise. A cold that makes him tremble, not shiver.

He kisses along the softness of her throat, feeling the point where her pulse should skitter and instead only the scent of magic lingers, thick and heavy like a tide. He never noticed that before; the vampire in him smells it, the absence of food, the promise of something that would undo him. New instinct says to pull from that point. Old love keeps him there, keeps him kissing her, back up and up until he’s at her lips once more.

She’s smiling into the kiss, humming against his lips as their mouths move together, as their tongues brush.

‘It’s peaceful here,’ Cedwyn says when they part. He puts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her in, Vercinjetorix sliding the softness of herself onto his lap. ‘I didn’t think it would be like this.’

‘I suppose it isn’t, usually,’ she says. ‘We shouldn’t jinx it.’

He smiles, wrapping his arms tight around her waist and hugging her close. She’s so petite in his arms he can engulf her entirely, shelter her from the wind with his body even if she doesn’t feel the cold of it.

‘I suppose you’re right,’ he says and points down to the beach where the tide laps against it. ‘Knowing our luck something will come wading out of there, all teeth and claws.’ Cedwyn punctuates that with a nibble of his own teeth against her neck, his hands tickling over her sides.

She shakes in his arms and laughs, the sound as bright and clear as summer. ‘Stop it!’ She manages between bursts of laughter and eventually, Cedwyn takes mercy and relents, finishing with another kiss against her throat.

‘You’re awful,’ she says, but even as she’s saying it, she’s turning in his arms, she’s kissing his cheeks, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her legs have to spread wide to straddle him and Cedwyn drops his hands to her waist to support her there.

‘Positively terrible,’ he agrees.

‘You didn’t see what we did in the mines,’ she says, her eyes still bright from her laughter. If she could flush, her cheeks would be pink, he thinks. ‘What made us all so terribly filthy afterwards.’

Vercinjetorix means it to tease, he knows that. But he can’t quite summon the same smile in return, ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t come with you.’

Her wide eyes go wider, ‘Oh, that’s alright. The place was full of holy symbols, it would have been dangerous.’

Once, he would have adorned himself with holy symbols to hunt vampires. Now, they burn him to be near, scald him to touch. He did what he did to survive and he would do it again a thousand times over, but this is the first time it’s really felt like what it is: he is a monster now. And none of her sweet words about beauty will change that.

‘You’re quiet,’ she says softly. So soft, the words might have been lost on the wind were it not for the close proximity of their lips – and his new senses. There is little he does not hear anymore. ‘Tell me what’s wrong?’

‘It’s…’ He catches himself on the brink of promising that it’s nothing, of concealing, but she’s his fiancé, soon she’ll be his wife. He can’t hide from her: he doesn’t _want_ to hide from her.

‘The decision I made with Sanjing,’ he says instead. ‘I don’t regret it. I would do it again a thousand times over. But…’

‘But you’re a vampire now,’ she finishes for him.

He nods, ‘And my whole life I fought vampires, I killed them, I saw them as monsters that only cared about their own gain. Then I met Sanjing and he’s…Well, he’s an ass. But when I asked him to turn me, he didn’t have to do it. It put him at risk, made him a target for Her anger too. But he did it anyway – and he plays it off, that he did it so you wouldn’t be mad but really…Really, I think he did it because he didn’t want you to be upset, he didn’t want you to come back and find me dead. He did it because he cares. And all of that is to say that Sanjing taught me vampires didn’t _have_ to be like that, that I can be something different, something better.’

‘You can,’ she agrees. ‘You could never be a monster.’

‘But I will always be a vampire, no matter how good I am. And so there will be places I cannot follow you, things I cannot do. And I’d tried to ignore that, I suppose, until today when I couldn’t anymore.’

Vercinjetorix strokes her dainty fingertips over his cheeks. ‘I hated leaving you here. I was so scared what we might come back to. But I know it wasn’t your fault, I never blamed you for it. I never _will_ blame you for it.’

He tilts his head and kisses the edges of her fingers. ‘I know. And I hated seeing you go. I know the others can defend you – I know you don’t _need_ defending. But it felt wrong all the same.’

‘We’re meant to be together,’ she says.

‘Always.’

She leans in and presses their foreheads together, her golden hair falling around their faces like a curtain of sunlight. Together, they stay like that, his arms tight around her waist, her fingers tangled in the still damp strands of his hair with their foreheads pressed together. They stay like that as the sea laps against the shore below, as the wind tears through the trees, as the light from the house spills across the garden, not quite touching them where they’re sat.

And then he says, ‘But we’re together now, wife.’

Her lips twitch, stretch into a smile. ‘We are, husband.’

Cedwyn kisses her. He kisses her with open mouth, with tongue, with their teeth bumping as they move backwards together as one. He lays her down in the sand and he’s still kissing her as she wraps her thighs around his waist and he pushes up the silk of her skirt.

Her thighs are pink and soft as he runs his fingers along them. Cedwyn’s hands are hunter’s hands, thick and calloused and rough. He almost feels undeserving of touching such softness, such unblemished skin, were it not for the way she sighs beneath him. Her thighs spread for him, her lips parting on a gasp as he reaches the covering of her lace underwear and rubs his thumb along the opening of her through it.

He keeps his thumb there, rubbing it in circles, while with his other hand he reaches up to cup the small swell of her breast. Vercinjetorix is in proportion everywhere, her breasts delicate, petite, fitting prettily in the palm of his hand. He cups one through the lace of her gown, squeezes just tight enough that she moans and then finds the point where her nipple is hard from pleasure. Cedwyn circles the nub of it and her back snaps up, arching to meet him, to demand more without asking.

He gives it to her – he will always give her what she asks. Cedwyn keeps his thumb still massaging her clit through her underwear as he dips to kiss at her breast, to pull at the lacing with his teeth until she’s bared to him and the moonlit sky. He covers her body with his, covers her from the cold that doesn’t touch her, from any eyes that might be out there – while the beach is empty, that doesn’t mean they are alone. They’ve learnt that the hard way, time and time again.

He kisses along the underside of her breast and up until he reaches her nipple where he sucks it into his mouth to lap at it with his tongue. Beneath him she shivers and reaches up to grab at his arms, to dig her nails into his skin hard enough he feels a bite of pleasure. Cedwyn rolls her nipple under his tongue, sucks it between his lips and all the while his thumb circles around her clit until he can feel she’s wet through her underwear.

Then he pulls back, parting her gown as he kisses down the smooth lines of her stomach, the arch of her hips, the slight swell of her thighs. He mouths at her through the lace as she drapes a thigh over his shoulder, as she grips fistfuls of his hair between her fingers.

Cedwyn pushes the slip of fabric aside, not even taking it off, just moving it enough he can get his mouth on her. He tastes the wet of her with a sweep of his tongue, then fucks his tongue up and inside her to feel the way her thighs clench around his head. The feel of her around him is bliss; she is cold everywhere but here, here she’s warm as she clenches around his fingers and tongue while he takes his time working her open. He sucks hard at her clit as he thrusts a finger inside her and her cry is loud enough they both freeze, waiting to see if anyone in the house heard.

Nobody comes outside, nobody calls their names. The beach remains dark and empty below. Cedwyn gets back to work.

He stays there for a long time, stays there as she shakes around him, as her thighs begin to clench, as her soft moans grow all the more desperate. He wants her to cum like this, wants to pull her to pleasure with just his mouth and hands. It doesn’t take long. Beneath him she writhes and squeezes her thighs around his head, one hand clenching the sand and the other grabbing his head. She keeps him there, pressed close, the only place he ever wants to be as he fucks her with his mouth, as he coaxes pleasure out of her on whimpers and sighs with his fingers.

When she reaches her peak he always feels it coming: there’s a tension that spreads through her hips, a shiver in her thighs, her feet flex and the arch of it makes her calves tense around his shoulders. He knows then is the time to work harder, to thrust his tongue deeper, to crook his fingers and scissor them out. He moans against her and lets her feel the vibrations of it, lets her hear the unspoken words: _come apart for me, love._

Vercinjetorix climaxes with a trembling cry. Her hand clenches tight enough in his hair it hurts, and he moans again at the feeling of it. She spills hot and wet against his lips, into his mouth, and he drinks her in. Blood is everything now, the sweetest nectar a vampire can have.

Still, it does not compare to this.

When she stills, he pulls back, leaning his head against her thigh and grinning up at her. Her lips are pink from where she’s been biting them, and she’s covered in a faint layer of sand from how she’s writhed and moved. She looks down at him and blinks her big, beautiful eyes. He kisses her thigh in return.

‘I miss you,’ she says eventually.

So, he returns to her. He lays beside her in the sand, still covering her body with his own, and he kisses her softly. She traces sand-streaked fingers over his cheeks, tucks a strand of hair back behind his ear and holds onto him so tenderly he feels as if he could sink into her and stay there forever.

A foolish thought, of course. In the morning they will be back to trying to save Sanjing and there will be no softness, no time for shared, lingering kisses or touches.

Vercinjetorix slips her hand down his body, roaming it over his shirt and then to his breeches. She unties the laces with quick, efficient flicks of her fingers. Then she takes his cock in her hand, squeezes around the aching length of him, and guides him inside her.

She is wet already from his mouth, from the pleasure he brought her. Cedwyn sighs as his cock sinks into that wet heat, as she spreads for him, as she takes each inch. Her thigh goes over his hip, the heel of her foot pressing against his lower back as he takes her deeper. When his cock is fully buried inside, he pants, chokes on air he no longer needs, overwhelmed by the sheer wanting he feels for her. Will he ever get used to it? If he lives a thousand years at her side, will the feel of her body against his ever stop amazing him?

He doesn’t think it will.

Vercinjetorix takes his face in her hands and kisses him, whispering sweet things against his lips as he starts to thrust: _yes, there, there you are, that’s right, oh please, please._ And he drinks in every word, losing himself in the feeling of her and lilt of her voice. She is a siren, and he is hopeless, happily lost at sea.

When he cums he jerks his hips harder than before, thrusting as deep as he can. The angle doesn’t allow for it, not really, but he clings as hard as he can as he shivers and moans and climaxes. The feeling is like free-falling into warm water: a sudden rush, a dizzy swooping sensation, and then only bliss.

‘Vercinjetorix,’ he whispers after, as they lay together in a heap. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

And really, whether monster or man, whether immortal or not, as long as he has that, as long as he has her and she has him: he has enough.


End file.
